


The Right Thing

by PrettyWhizzer (NargleAdvocate)



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Ahhh poor Davey hes getting yelled at right after he got beat up, Anger, Angst, Arguing, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt, Hurt, Les is kinda a little shit, Self-Doubt, Their parents just want them to be safe, this takes place after seize the day and the strike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 13:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NargleAdvocate/pseuds/PrettyWhizzer
Summary: The strike was one thing, a thing Davey could handle, but facing his parents about what had just transpired? A little scarier. He was starting to doubt what this was all worth.





	The Right Thing

The exact events were a blur for Davey. Jack shouted for war, and Davey remembered chucking a stack of newspapers, and then hiding his brother in a barrel, and then a stinging pain right before he hit the ground. He couldn't focus past that until he was limping home, gripping on to Les's hand tightly, as if it were his last lifeline. Maybe it was, or maybe it was the only thing keeping him from running back there and making sure Jack, or all the other Newsies, were okay. But he couldn't, he had to remember, Les came first.

There was a ringing in his ears, and the world seemed too dark, and he wasn't sure he could see out of his left eye. But he knew the ways down the streets, knew the alleyways to go down so they didn't get mugged (he had Jack to thank for that), and soon the pair were standing in front of their small apartment door. A sense of nervousness washed over Davey, though he wasn't sure why. He was just going into his house, and seeing his family. It's fine. They're fine.

As soon as he opened the door, however, he knew things were certainly not fine. His parents were sitting in the crammed dining room, arms crossed, talking in that low tone that sent anxious shivers up his spine. He winced, and then winced again when the action sent pain shooting through his face. He didn't know what it looked like, but it must have been bad. And when his parents turned towards him, his suspicions were confirmed, if their wide eyes and gasps were an evidence.

"David Jacobs, what the he- what happened to your face?"

"Well, y'see, we's was in a strike! Dave and Jack are the leaders, and I'm the secstcratary of state! But Pulitzer sent some bullies to come beat us up!" Les interjected, and Davey sent a wide eyed glance over to his brother, who just grinned up at his parents.

"Les, I think it's time for bed," Davey reminded.

Les pouted. "But I'm hungry!"

"You had dinner already."

"Fine..." Les hung his head and dragged his feet all the way to his bedroom, making Davey roll his eyes with a small smile. Irritating, but always cute.

"So, was what he said true?"

Davey turned back towards his parents, who both looked angrier than before. He winced, again, and moved his eyes towards the floor. His parents rarely got angry, but when they did, they were intimidating, to say the least. "...Yes?"

"I can't believe-" His mother stood up and paced to the other side of the room, before sighing. "You got hurt, Dave."

"I know."

"What happened?"

Davey hesitated, before moving to sit down at the table and beginning his story. "Well... Where should I start?"

"From the start."

"Right... Well, when me and Les joined up with the newsies, the guy in charge of The World, Pulitzer, upped the price. And, well, we didn't think that was fair. So, we decided to strike, just like those trolley workers. And, well, we made a union and... protested. It worked well for a while, until..." Davey winced, as if just remembering his bruised face. "Well, they called in reinforcements. And, we fought back, but it... Didn't go too well. It was for a good cause though! They wouldn't have gotten backup if we hadn't scared them!"

At that point, Davey had stood up, voice growing with every word, dedication brimming at every edge. He had his fists rolled into balls and he was breathing heavily with exertion.

"Strike...? Where have you been getting the money to give us?" Davey's father asked first, after a silence hung over the family for a few seconds.

Davey opened his mouth, and then closed it, and then moved a hand to scratch behind his neck. "Well, it's kind of... From my fund? The one, for... y'know, college..."

"You took from your college fund?" Davey's father's voice turned up, shock and anger mixing together.

"Yeah, I did- well, it's not like it was going to be used anyways! So, I thought, I might as well use it for something useful, like supporting my family!"

"It was going to send you to college! It had a use!" Davey's mother butted in.

"It was never going to be enough! We weren't... I wouldn't have been able to anyways, so why bother? I'll be okay with the education I'll get! Most boys my age don't get an education at all, even!"

"We wanted you to be different! We wanted you to have a better education than tho-"

"Those what? The newsies? _My friends_?"

"That's not what I meant."

"It is! I know it was. They're just as smart as any of us. I argue more so, with a better kind of education!"

"They clearly don't have a better education if they started something like this so carelessly." Davey's father frowned. 

"It was my idea!"

"That boy, Jake, the one you talk about, he must have been the one to start it."

"It's _Jack_. And he only did what he thought was right!"

Davey's father sighed, a deep sigh that showed exhaustion from age. His tone calmed, and he said, "Dave, sometimes, even when you believe in something, it isn't the right thing to do. Especially when it causes damage, like this." He gestured towards Davey's face. "I know, it seems unfair, but that's life. You can't just change things like this. Especially because you're all so young. The world isn't just going to bend to the will of a bunch of kids who sell newspapers, I'm sorry."

Davey stared down at the table, eyes wide, processing what his father said. Could that... Be true? But, they had good reasoning, and they were going to be in the newspaper the next day, and what Pulitzer did was unfair, and they could do something about it...

"I don't think you should be working there anymore. We can find you a new job..."

"No!" Davey almost shouted, jerking his head up. "Please- I really like doing that job."

"Dear, it doesn't really seem safe..."

"It is! It's just selling newspapers..."

"If we let you stay, you can't take part in any more of this strike business, you hear?" Davey's father propositioned.

"Wait, but the others boys, they're counting on me to help lead!"

"I don't want you mixed up in all that danger. You could get hurt again, or it could be worse. Either you don't participate in this stupid revolution business, or you stay away from all those- newsies, forever."

"Okay... Okay, I- I won't." Davey stood in silence, his hands gripping at the edges of his shirt, feeling tears prick at the edges of his eyes. Why was he crying? 

"Good."

"Come here David," Davey's mother said, in a much softer tone than all the shouting before, "We need to clean up all those bruises. Your cheek is still red from-"

Davey frowned as his mother's voice faded, clearly not wanting to admit what happened. He obediently moved over to her and sat down, staying still as she wiped a rag gently across his face. His mind still lingered on his father's words from before. The world... It would work, he knew it could. But... His father knew more about this than he did...

Were they doing the right thing?


End file.
